


Talons

by smarshtastic



Series: Charity Fics [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Light Bondage, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: “I don’t understand how you can get anything done with those things,” Angela says off-handedly. On the other side of the bench, Moira glances up without lifting her head.---Angela gets a first-hand look at the pros of Moira's impractical manicure.





	Talons

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for twitter user [valdasine](https://twitter.com/valdasine), as a thank you for their donation to the [National Network of Abortion Funds](https://abortionfunds.org/about/). Check them out - they do amazing work!!
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](twitter.com/smarshtastic), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/mcreyes), and [tumblr](wictorwictor.tumblr.com) ♥

“I don’t understand how you can get anything done with those things,” Angela says off-handedly. On the other side of the bench, Moira glances up without lifting her head. 

“What on earth are you on about?” Moira asks. Angela gestures with the pipette she's holding, pointing at Moira’s hands. Angela, who keeps her nails sensibly short and usually unpolished, has long wondered how Moira is able to do any of the intricate lab work her job entails with such an ostentatious choice of manicure. They’re stuck sharing lab space this evening - an experiment gone awry has rendered several spaces out of service - and Angela is feeling chattier than usual. She doesn’t normally have company during the late hours in the lab. 

“Your nails. Don’t they get in the way?” Angela asks. Moira looks at her long, sharp nails. 

“No,” Moira says. 

“But how do you wear gloves?” Angela presses. 

“Carefully,” Moira says. As if to demonstrate her deftness with her choice of manicure, Moira reaches across the bench and plucks the petri dish out from under Angela’s pipette. She holds it delicately in two fingers, examining the transparent gel under her task light. 

“Give that back!” Angela says. Moira slides it back to Angela after another moment, most likely just to be irritating. Angela moves it out of reach. “You know, nails that long can be terribly unhygienic - all the bacteria and dirt that gets trapped under there…” 

“What sort of animal do you take me for?” Moira asks. Angela ducks her head to hide her smile. 

“Something with talons,” Angela says. “A sloth, perhaps. They have quite long claws.” 

“A sloth!” Moira scoffs. “I should be offended.” 

“Do you prefer a different creature?” 

“I’ll have you know that my _talons_ have plenty of utility,” Moira says airily. 

“I hardly think that’s true,” Angela says. The corner of Moira’s mouth turns up, a glint in her eyes. A thrill goes up Angela’s spine. 

“Allow me to demonstrate.” 

⨇⨈⨇

Perched on Moira’s knee, with her arms tied securely behind her back, Angela practically trembles in anticipation. She’s facing Moira, straddling her thigh, stripped down to her underwear while Moira is fully dressed.Moira has loosened her tie slightly, but that hardly seems equitable. 

Moira runs a nail down the length of Angela’s spine, light, barely touching her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps following her touch. 

“They have their uses,” Moira says softly. She trails her fingers back up Angela’s spine, over her shoulders, down between her breasts. She pauses to run her nails along the cups of Angela’s practical nude bra. Angela has to suppress a shiver. 

“Surely their utility can’t outweigh the encumbrance,” Angela says, managing to keep the waver out of her voice, but only barely. Moira’s lip quirks up. 

“I’m quite deft handed,” Moira says. “Such things only limit you if you let them.” 

Angela swallows, not trusting herself to speak. Moira lets one finger trail between Angela’s breasts while she reaches with her other hand to free Angela’s hair from her ponytail. Her fingernails scratch lightly over Angela’s scalp - a welcome relief after a long day pulled back. She closes her eyes and enjoys the sensation. 

“See?” 

“Mm, I’ll give you that,” Angela says. She forces herself to reopen her eyes. Moira smiles at her, that mischievous spark in her eye returning. 

“I’m sure you’ll come around to the choice entirely,” Moira says. 

“Now I wouldn’t go _that_ far -” 

“Let’s try an experiment, shall we?” 

Angela swallows thickly. She nods. She’s painfully curious - it’s how she ended up tied up in Moira’s lap in the first place. She knows she could leave if she really wanted, but she doesn’t. She wants to see this through. She shifts a little, her thighs squeezing Moira’s leg in anticipation. 

Moira rakes her nails down the back of Angela’s neck, putting a little more pressure against her skin, so Angela can feel just how sharp her nails truly are. Angela bites down on her lip, keeping her eyes on Moira’s face. Moira puts even more pressure between Angela’s shoulder blades, little pin pricks in her skin that don’t hurt, exactly, but sharpen Angela’s awareness. Moira leans in, her lips close to Angela’s ear. 

“You’ll be a good girl and tell me if it’s too much, won’t you?” she murmurs. Angela nods vigorously. 

“Yes,” she breathes. 

“Good,” Moira says, then drags her fingernails down the length of Angela’s spine. Heat rushes to Angela’s skin, little trails of flesh burning in the wake of Moira’s fingers. Angela sucks in her breath. Moira does it again, tracing that same path, making her skin grow hotter. The third time makes Angela squirm, keenly aware of the red marks that must be appearing on her skin. 

“Too much?” 

“No,” Angela finds herself saying. “Keep going.” 

Moira smiles wider. She leans back in her seat and looks at Angela for a moment, as if considering. She drums her fingers on her other thigh, the shiny black polish catching the light of Moira’s quarters. Angela stays perfectly still, holding her breath as she watches the gears turn in Moira’s head. 

Finally, Moira reaches out and scrapes her fingers from Angela’s collar bone, down over the swell of her breasts. Angela lets her breath out in a rush. She glances down without moving her head and can see the bright red lines standing out against her pale skin. 

“Oh,” Angela says. 

Moira hums. She pulls the cup of one breast down and circles Angela’s nipple with the tip of her nail, lightly again, teasing. Angela’s breath quickens, though, anticipating another scratch. But it doesn’t come. Moira rolls her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, expertly avoiding any scraping of the nails. Angela squirms again, grinding down on Moira’s thigh just a little, unwilling to give in so quickly. Moira teases Angela’s nipple until it’s nearly as red as the scratch marks on her chest, then pulls down the cup on the other side to do the same thing. She circles the first nipple with the nails of her other hand as she teases the second. 

“The combination of pain and pleasure is a storied coupling,” Moira murmurs. She releases Angela’s nipples and drags the smooth polished surfaces of the tops of her nails up towards her collar bone. “One serves to amplify the other. Together, it makes for an explosive sensory experience.” 

Moira slashes downwards suddenly, a quick movement that results in a flash of heat across Angela’s chest. Angela gasps, but doesn’t pull away. 

“Of course, I would never hurt you,” Moira says. She leans forward and drops a soft kiss to the start of one of the bright red tracks on Angela’s skin. “Unless you asked me, of course.” 

Angela’s legs quiver. She doesn’t like giving in so easily - it always makes Moira go insufferably _smug_ \- but she’s also eager for more of... whatever this is. 

“What do you say, hm?” Moira asks. She scrapes the tip of her nail over a nipple. 

“More,” Angela says. “Please.” 

Moira chuckles softly. She scrapes her fingers lightly down Angela’s stomach - a light burn, nothing so jarring. It leaves a tingling sensation in its wake. Moira pauses at the top of Angela’s panties. She hooks a nail in the elastic and draws it away from Angela’s skin before she lets it snap back into place. It takes Angela by surprise - she sucks in her breath. Moira laughs. 

“You asked for more,” Moira says. She hooks her nail in the hem of Angela’s panties again, and then rips through the fabric easily. 

“Oh!” 

Angela’s panties fall open, exposing the downy blonde hair at the apex of her legs. She squeezes Moira’s thigh between her own again, heat pooling in her belly. Moira trails the nail of one finger lightly from Angela’s navel down, down, down, coming to a stop just above her clit. Angela tenses, her heart beating in her throat. She simultaneously wants to be touched - to get more friction where she needs it - but she’s terrified by the prospect of Moira’s sharp nails so close to her most sensitive parts. 

Moira drops a kiss to Angela’s collar bone. Angela can feel the corner of her mouth curl in a smile against her skin. 

“You want more?” Moira asks, her breath ghosting over the scratches on Angela’s chest. Angela shudders. Moira moves her hand and Angela stiffens - but Moira curls her finger, rubbing her knuckle over Angela’s clit. She gasps, straining against the buckles that keep her arms behind her back. Moira is already moving her finger away, though, and running her nails along the inside of her thighs. 

“Moira - please -” 

Moira grips Angela’s legs, her nails biting into Angela’s skin, and lifts her off her knee, simultaneously sliding down in her seat. Angela makes a little surprised noise - she always forgets how deceptively strong Moira is, inspite of her slim frame. 

“Like that - knees here, pet,” Moira says, rearranging herself and Angela until Angela is kneeling over Moira’s face. Moira uses her nails to rip the remaining shreds of Angela’s panties away, dropping them on the floor, careless to where they fall. Then she digs her fingers into the soft flesh of her ass and pulls Angela down so her pussy meets Moira’s lips. 

“Oh -” Angela breathes as Moira’s tongue laps at her lightly. Her soft _oh_ turns into a sharper gasp as Moira digs her fingers in harder, creating bright points of pain that contrast with the delicate sweep of Moira’s tongue. Angela squirms but Moira has her held tightly. Moira sweeps her tongue between the lips of Angela’s pussy, which is already slick with anticipation. Moira makes a pleased hum against Angela, lapping at her with light, almost fluttery strokes. Her nails scrape over the curve of Angela’s ass and then she pulls her in tight as her lips close around Angela’s clit, the scrape of her nails going harsher again. 

A storied coupling indeed. Moira’s mouth expertly works Angela’s pussy until she’s dripping and writhing, aching for release. Moira keeps moving her nails across Angela’s skin - her ass, her hips, her back, anywhere she can reach - alternating between light grazes and purposefully rougher scratches. Angela will surely still have marks tomorrow. 

Angela rocks against Moira’s face, the only little bit of motion that she can manage with her arms still bound. She doesn’t know how much longer she can hold out like this - her skin is on fire with pain and pleasure, the heat cooled tightly in her belly. 

“Please, Moira, please,” Angela pants. Moira smiles against Angela’s pussy. She presses her tongue in deeper, digs her nails into Angela’s skin to bring her tighter against her mouth. Angela bucks, little stuttery thrusts as her orgasm builds, unsure whether she wants Moira’s mouth or nails more. When she finally comes, Angela cries out, teetering on the edge of total sensory overload. 

Moira eases her down to the sofa once Angela’s legs stop quaking. She unbuckles the bands securing Angela’s arms behind her back and massages them gently to get the blood moving again. Angela is still trying to catch her breath. 

“I still… I still wouldn’t call them _practical_ ,” she says, and Moira laughs. 

⨇⨈⨇

As Angela predicted, she still has scratch marks all over the next day. She spends an inordinate amount of time staring at her body in the mirror as she gets ready for work. Moira never broke skin - a miracle, really - but the red marks stand out on Angela’s pale skin. With one finger, Angela traces one of the marks that follows the swell of her breast. She shivers. She’s going to be late. She dresses in a turtleneck sweater and leaves her hair down, just in case. A final quick check in the mirror shows no visible makes. The downside, though, is that she can feel every movement of fabric over the raw marks on her skin. It’s intensely distracting. 

Moira glances up as Angela enters the temporarily shared lab. Angela doesn’t have to look at her to imagine the smug expression on her face. Instead, she sweeps past Moira and begins setting up her experiments without a word. 

Angela works in relative peace for several minutes before she feels a presence behind her. She refuses to look up. 

“Yes?” 

“How do you feel?” Moira asks, her voice closer to her ear than Angela had guessed. She shivers. 

“Fine,” Angela says lightly. 

Moira reaches out and traces a finger down Angela’s back, over one of the longer and more tender scratches. Angela nearly drops her pipette. 

“I might have a salve for that,” Moira says. 

“Well isn’t that useful,” Angela says. She glances sideways at Moira, still too flustered to be able to face her directly. “You must put it to good use.” 

“I’m happy to share,” Moira says. 

“I’d be grateful,” Angela says. Moira’s lip curves up at the corner. 

“After we’re done here, then.” Moira says. Angela nods, wondering how she’s going to last the entire day. 


End file.
